


Restless Heart Syndrome

by BisexualNerd



Series: Sad/Depressing Batfam Songfics (and fluff 'cause I can't handle all the angst alone) [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Batfamily (DCU), Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Fluff, Gen, Good Sibling Cassandra Cain, Good Sibling Dick Grayson, Good Sibling Jason Todd, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kinda, Self-Doubt, Self-Hatred, Somewhat Good Sibling Damian Wayne, Songfic, Suicidal Thoughts, Tim Drake Angst, Tim Drake-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:08:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23887195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BisexualNerd/pseuds/BisexualNerd
Summary: He feels empty.He feels numb.And he thinks he's self-destructive.(He knows he is.)But he's okay with it.(His family is not.)
Relationships: Cassandra Cain & Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown & Tim Drake, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Tim Drake & Jason Todd
Series: Sad/Depressing Batfam Songfics (and fluff 'cause I can't handle all the angst alone) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1747507
Comments: 34
Kudos: 377
Collections: Tim Drake





	1. You're A Victim Of Your Symptom, You Are Your Own Worst Enemy

**Author's Note:**

> A twoshot. Probably.
> 
> This is based on my own experience about two years ago, when I started to struggle with my own problems.
> 
> While listening to my favourite band, this song kinda reminds me of it. Not in a bad way though. It actually makes me realize how much better I've gotten. And it's pretty calming, compares to my thoughts recently.
> 
> This is my take on the song with my favourite Robin. The song actually talks about a drug addiction kind of problem but I think this fic's main topic could be inferred from the song as well.
> 
> English is not my first language. Please be nice if there's any error.
> 
> The song from this fic is Restless Heart Syndrome by Green Day, which is probably on #2 or #3 of my Fav Green Day list (the #1 goes to Holiday, especially that one live version from Tokyo, Japan).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is focusing on Tim mostly. There are some mentions of the other members of the Batfam but that's it.

[Restless Heart Syndrome - Lyrics Video](https://youtu.be/qNQctwfzOAI)

(If anyone's interested in having the full experience of the fic, here the song.)

* * *

Empty.

That's what he has been feeling.

He also thinks he's too apathetic to go out and help people.

Emotionless and numb.

He has been running on coffee and dry cereal for days now.

And he hasn't visited the manor for a while.

He knows he shouldn't feel so affected by _the words._

But he can't stop the thoughts from invading his head.

He thinks he is... sick. Though not physically.

> _I've got a really bad disease_   
>  _It's got me begging_   
>  _On my hands and knees_

He can't cry. He can't smile. He can't scream either.

He's... stuck. Somewhere in the in-between of something. Maybe of life and death.

Because it doesn't feel like he's alive, but it's certain that he's not dead.

Just existing.

Surviving. Days by days. Hours by hours. Minutes by minutes.

Everything is blurry, fuzzy. He can't remember what he just did half an hour ago.

Sometimes, he thinks he's even forgetting his own name and existence.

> _So take me to the emergency_   
>  _'Cause something seems to be missing_

There is a hole where his heart's supposed to be.

Void.

Blank.

Yet he can still feel his heart aches with every beat.

It doesn't really feel like a heart anymore, to be honest.

Or maybe he does have a heart.

But the things that are missing are love.

And hope.

And care (mostly for himself).

He definitely doesn't care about much.

(He always cares too much.)

In addition to that, _the_ _words_ seem to have taken up too much of his ~~already limited~~ care.

> _Somebody take the pain away_   
>  _It's like an ulcer bleeding in my brain_   
>  _Send me to the pharmacy_   
>  _So I can lose my memory_

But oh the irony! The things he wants to forget keep replaying in his brain.

It's a curse with such a bright mind and a restless heart.

He can't remember yet can't forget.

He doesn't want to care but he can't help but care anyway.

He doesn't know what to do.

Maybe he should try to forget his whole life.

That would be a relief.

No one with a life like this should be able to live this long.

> _I'm elated_   
>  _Medicated_   
>  _Lord knows I tried to find a way to run away._

He has finished another case and sent it to Bruce.

He hasn't gone out to patrol for a whole week. He said he needed time to solve cases for them.

His false cheeriness probably didn't escape his brothers' sharp eyes.

Now? He's taking some time off and sitting by the wide-open window.

He closes his eyes to try to enjoy the golden light of a late summer afternoon.

_...inadequate..._

_...incompetent..._

_...unwanted..._

_...interloper..._

He snaps his eyes open.

_So much for taking a break._

He pushes himself up and goes to find another cup of coffee.

> _I think they found another cure_   
>  _For broken hearts and feeling insecure_   
>  _You'd be surprised what I endure_   
>  _What make you feel so self-assured?_

One of his brother calls. Asks about his well-being and tells him to come over for dinner.

He says he'll see about it.

He doesn't.

He solves another case instead.

Another calls, asking him if he's up for a late night snack.

He tells his older brother that he's been busy.

He ends the call as _the words_ scream at him once more.

_...never be good enough..._

_...slacking..._

_...sloppy..._

_You will never be accepted in this family._

He scowls and goes back to his laptop.

His father (mentor?) calls. His voice sounds concerned.

He shakes it off as a side effect of his own lack of communication and mishearing the man.

"I'm fine."

He ends the call before the other can say another word.

He's doing just fine.

> _I need to find a place to hide_   
>  _You never know what could be_   
>  _Waiting outside_   
>  _The accidents you could find_   
>  _It's like some kind of suicide_

A shadow passes his window.

So he peers out from the curtain and sees his sister waving at him.

He gives her a small wave then closes the curtain.

He doesn't want to disappoint her.

He doesn't want to see the others.

He takes off his shirt to take a short shower.

It's been three days.

The warm water washes over the neat silver lines and the scabbing angry red ones on his arms and belly.

He glances at a small box in the open cabinet over the sink.

_Not tonight. Not now._

He washes his hair and his hands pull a little too rough.

It feels satisfying.

He dries himself and grabs a long-sleeved t-shirt.

His eyes accidentally meet the lines again.

_Not today._

> _So what ails you is what impales you_   
>  _I feel like I've been crucified to be satisfied_

His eyes catch the sight of the metal object on his nightstand.

It will feel good.

It will give him some pleasant minutes in this never-ending agony.

He's itching for some relief.

No thinking. No hurting. Mentally at least.

He settles for the laptop in the end.

> _I'm a victim of my symptom_   
>  _I am my own worst enemy_   
>  _You're a victim of your symptom_   
>  _You are your own worst enemy_   
>  _Know your enemy_

He looks at the time.

It is past midnight already.

He swears it was like 10 pm five minutes ago.

He drags himself into the kitchen to pour himself another cup of coffee.

The burning sensation of the cup in his hands makes him feel... nice.

It shouldn't.

_Maybe I'm broken or something._

The scalding hot liquid burns his tongue but he doesn't care.

He puts the cup down on the counter and makes his way back to his bedroom.

A sudden wave of dizziness causes him to stumble and hit the wall.

He welcomes the dull pain in his shoulder as he struggles to stand up straight.

The world spins around him fast and he falls to the floor.

He blinks as black spots dance in his line of vision.

The darkness engulfs him and he let himself be drowned in it.

_There's a chance no one will find me._

_And I might not wake up._

> _I'm elated_   
>  _Medicated_   
>  _I am my own worst enemy_

> _So what ails you is what impales you_   
>  _You are your own worst enemy_

> _You're a victim of the system_   
>  _You are your own worst enemy_   
>  _You're a victim of the system_   
>  _You are your own worst enemy_

He thinks he's fine with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed this, leave me some kudos and comment for motivation to keep writing.  
> And constructive criticism is always welcome.  
> Be nice, I'm sensitive.


	2. I'm A Victim Of My Symptom, I Am My Own Worst Enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter you are waiting for (hopefully).  
> Please take care of yourself if you can relate to this fic in some ways. And also, take care because of the pandemic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I write this well. Seriously. Because I suck at handling my mental health. And like, everyone in my family kinda sucks at handling it too.
> 
> And if I open my browser history, I will find a bunch of synonym thingies. Seriously, at this rate, I'm gonna get into the Diplomatic Academy just by sprouting synonyms at the professors.
> 
> WARNING: A lot of suicidal thoughts and there's a tiny bit of unintentional self-harming. No blood or anything but I consider this to be self-harm too.
> 
> And uh, if you squint a bit, there's TimSteph. Nothing much, just taking, laughing and joking.

Tim's eyes slowly blink open and are met with the ceiling of a dimly-lit cave.

_If this is what heaven or hell look like, I'm gonna be salty for the rest of my afterlife._

His mind feels like mush and his throat is so dry it can make Sahara desert feel ashamed. Tim takes a sharp breath and lets his eyes scan his surrounding.

There's an IV by his bed, a monitor and some medical kinds of stuff that he doesn't even bother to remember the names of. He is also covered in a really comfy blanket. There is a lump by the end of his bed as well.

Tim shifts ever so slightly and the lump stirs. He freezes in his spot on the bed and holds his breath. The figure lifts its head and a pair of dazed blue eyes meet his own.

"Tim?" _Maybe I'm not so dead after all._ "How long have you been awake?"

"Eh..." He clears his throat. "No...not for long."

"Oh, uh I should get you some ice chips."

Bruce leaves for a second then returns with a small cup in his hand. The ice soothes his throat and Tim relaxes when he feels a hand brushing his hair tenderly.

The action confuses him but he ignores it for now. From the corner of his eyes, he sees Bruce pulls a chair over and sits down next to him.

_This is so not good._

"How do you feel Tim?"

_Huh?_

"Fine, I guess. I just need a moment, then I'll be out of your hair soon. There's a case..."

"Tim, slow down. You are not going anywhere."

"But..."

"Stay here. I'm getting Alfred to check on you. Try not to move much."

Bruce pets his hair a few more times before getting up to find Alfred. The moment he's out of Tim's sight, he gets up, removes the cannula and looks around for his shirt and pants. The only thing he's wearing is a pair of boxers.

If he really is in the Batcave, then it means there are Damian and others around. The sooner he gets out of here, the better everything is. He doesn't need more insults and death threats to feel like a complete failure.

Tim finally spots his clothes all folded up nicely on a chair nearby. As he is putting on his shirt, the sound of footsteps startles him.

"Timmy?" A soft voice reaches his ears and Tim turns around to find Dick and Jason staring at him from the other side of the cave. "What are you doing?"

"Getting out of here so I can go home. What does it look like to you?"

"Sit your ass back down Replacement!" Jason orders and Tim silently cringes at the nickname. "The fuck you think you can just walk out of here after Goldie and I found you half dead in your goddamn house!?"

"Jason calm down." He hears Dick shushing Jason and sees him pushing the taller man away from Tim. "Tim, sit down. You were out for a whole day. Just let Alfie check on you first, please."

Tim reluctantly sits down on the bed. He tries his best to avoid any kind of eye contact with his brothers.

If they consider him their brother, that is.

More sound of footsteps echoes through the cave and Alfred appears around the corner, followed by his adoptive father.

"Master Tim, my boy, do you mind letting me check you over?"

Tim shakes his head, eyes still staring down at his hands on his lap. He can see Bruce and his brothers whispering to each other, and suddenly his heart feels so heavy at the sight.

_Is everything supposed to hurt this much?_

Because he's pretty sure that the last time he's been awake, he couldn't feel a goddamn thing. 

The black hole in his chest seems to have expanded and his hands start to shake, even just a little. Tim swallows and hopes he can keep it together until he can get out of here.

_Soon. They probably don't even want me here._

Maybe they just keep him alive because they need someone to solve their cases. Or someone to go on suicidal missions.

Maybe he's still here because he's somewhat valuable.

And when he's not anymore, they will throw him away like a ruined rag doll, like a disposable object.

Or he might die on the field. And they will hopefully mourn a day or two, then get on with their lives.

But if it comes to that, he hopes Alfred won't be hurting much. He's pretty sure the older man is fond of him, and he doesn't want the man to grieve over someone like him.

Someone doesn't deserve his love.

A gentle shake on his shoulders snaps him out of his spiralling thoughts. Through the blurriness of tears, he can see Bruce's concerned face.

_When did I start crying?_

"Tim, sweetheart, you with me?"

"Ye...yes." He winces at his stuttering, lifting a hand to wipe away the damp tear tracks on his cheeks. "So, can I go now? I'm all fixed up now, you don't have to worry about me."

He tries to stand up but Bruce just keeps a firm hold on his shoulders. Tim is getting more and more frustrated. 

_What does he want now?_

"Tim, buddy, can you listen to me for a bit?"

"After that, can I go home?"

"Just listen, alright?" Tim nods, figuring that he should just do whatever the man tells him to, then he can come home soon. "I want you to stay at the manor for a while." The man says slowly.

_Wait, what?_

_Oh no sir, that's not going to happen!_

He definitely does not want to spend more time in a place where he is constantly faced with death threats and negative comments on his existence. 

"No."

"What do you mean, _no_?" Then Jason is there, his voice loud and angry, and Tim finds himself flinching at the volume and the harshness of his voice. Dick can barely hold Jason back from coming at him. "You little shit couldn't take care of your goddamn self and you want to go back to living alone? We searched for your fucking house! You don't even have food there, except for the fucking cereal and coffee. Not even milk! You are shitting me! And...and you are malnourished, underweight and dehydrated. Do you want to go back to your house? Fucking kill me again and you might..."

"Jason! That's enough!" Bruce shuts Jason up and Dick drags the fuming man to a corner. His adoptive father then turns to him, a crease visible between his eyebrows.

"Please, Tim. I can't let you go back to living by yourself. Jason is right. You are overworking and you haven't been eating or sleeping well, right? Just for a while. When you are better, if you want to go back to your house, I won't stop you."

He is not sure he'll be alive long enough to get better.

_Not with demon spawn always trying to kill me._

_There's always a way out of everything..._ A voice is singsonging in his head.

 _No._ He thinks back. He can handle a few days here without doing **that**.

"Please son." Bruce is pleading and Tim feels the guilt rising up in his stomach.

 _Go jump off a building..._ The voice whispers. 

_What the fuck?!_ He grimaces.

"Okay." He mutters at the older man despite all the whinings in his head.

Bruce smiles and pulls him into a hug. Tim goes still for a short moment before closing his eyes and breathing in the familiar smells. Aftershave, kevlar and Alfred's detergents. He opens his eyes after a few seconds and sees his brothers and Alfred looking at them (him?) with a sad expression. 

"Do you want to go upstairs?" Bruce asks, pulling back but still keeping his hands on Tim's arms. He nods and struggles to get up but his father seems to have a different idea, placing one arm under the bend of his knees and the other around his back, picking him up with ease.

 _Underweight..._ Jason's word echoes in his mind.

His old room looks... nice. There aren't much of his stuff here but it is clean and the bed looks comfortable. His father puts him down and brushes his hair back with callous fingers.

"Are you hungry buddy?" And Tim shakes his head like a goddamn liar. He _is_ hungry, but he _doesn't_ want to eat.

"You have to eat, sweetheart. Maybe some soup?" As if on cue, his stomach growls loudly and Bruce looks like he could barely restrain a smile. "See, you need food. I'll go tell Alfred to make you some soup."

As he reaches the door, Tim hears him speaking softly.

"Stay with your brother. And don't shout at him, Jaybird. I'll be right back."

Dick pokes his head in and grins at him. The grin looks forced.

"Hey Timmy, how you're doing in there?"

"Good. You can go now, I'm sure you'd rather hang out with Damian..."

"We are staying. Scoot over ya goblin." Jason grumbles at him and Tim has no choice but moves so that Jason can sit down next to him. Dick claims the only chair in the room.

Tim looks away from them and curls up in the corner of the bed, arms folding over his chest. He can still feel their gaze on him and the awkwardness of the situation. He decides that it would be better if they just stopped pretending to care.

His eyes travel to the window and catch sight of the old tree nearby.

He can escape using the tree. Just jump and swing down. Then maybe find a safehouse, avoid the others. Just until he gets better.

_Or until you drop dead. Really dead._

_Fuck off._

_And they won't find your body 'til it's too late._

_Shut up._

He glances at the desk by the window. A lone pencil lies untouched.

_How about stabbing yourself in the throat? The pencil looks sharp enough..._

_No..._

_Justttt a bit?_

_No._

_C'mon, you want to do it..._

"TIM!" He almost jumps at the loud voice. His head snaps up so fast it almost collides with Dick's face.

Tim tries his best to get his breathing and heartbeats down, his eyes never leave Dick's eyes. The pair of intense blues stare back at him and they give off an impression of fear and concern.

"You with us Baby Bird?" And he realizes that his hands are tightly held in Dick's palms. There are redden crescent marks on the outside of both his forearms. They are deep but not bleeding.

"Yeah. I'm fine. You can let go of me now, Dick, I..."

Bruce chooses that exact moment to show up with a tray. He half thanks whoever up there, half hopes the man won't question whatever is going in the room.

The newcomer scans the room quickly and his eyes finally land on him. Particularly, his arms and hands, which are still held by Dick.  
Bruce takes a deep breath.

"Dick, Jason, can you give us a moment?" The two of them protest but their adoptive father just gives them a sharp look that says " _leave now_ ".

It's just Bruce and him now.

The older one puts the tray down on the desk and crouches down to his level. He gestures to Tim's arms, asking to inspect them. Tim bites on his lips for a short moment but extends his arms anyway. The marks aren't that bad, he keeps telling himself.

Callous fingers tenderly touch the marks and a downcast expression crosses the man's face. The guilty feeling surges up again. But the expression leaves Bruce's face as quickly as it came and his father smiles sadly at him.

"Soup?"

Tim blinks. He has been expecting some more questions, especially about the marks. He nods and Bruce lifts the tray and puts it down on his lap. The man then moves to sit next to him, sweeping his hair back when it falls into his face and covers his eyes.

Tim stops after having eaten two-third of the bowl and drinks some water. Bruce takes the tray back to the desk then turns to him.

"How are you feeling?"

_How am I feeling?_

"Good." He says curtly, casting his eyes down to look at his hands again.

"Tim. Tim, sweetheart, can you look at me?"

He turns his gaze up.

"I'm looking."

His father gently lays his hand on Tim's arms and reveals the long sleeve of silver lines on his left arm and some scattered ones on his right one. Tim clenches his jaw and holds his breath, waiting for the worst.

"Tim, do you trust me?" He nods. He trusts the man with his goddamn ~~pathetic~~ life. Really. "Then can you believe me when I say these words I'm about to say?"

He feels confused. But he nods again and waits for the inevitable to come.

"Tim, darling, my brilliant, wonderful Tim. I'm so sorry." _Huh?_ "I'm so sorry I didn't notice this. I'm so sorry that I've been such an awful father that I've made you feel like you have to live on your own. That you have to do **this** to yourself. I'm sorry that I'm haven't been there for you, that I haven't given you enough love and support you deserve. You have been so strong and independent and I'm always so afraid of invading your personal space, that I've never really thought to give you enough affection. I'm so, so sorry that I have made you think I don't love you. And I'm not asking for forgiveness. But sweetheart, please, can you believe me when I say that I love you? That I love you so much?"

Tim's chest feels tight and just as he blinks, two drops of crystal fall to his arms. He opens his mouth, trying to say something but no word comes out. He can feel his lips quivering and his breathing quickening.

"Tim? Darling?"

Bruce asks again and rises up a bit from his spot. A hiccup escapes Tim's throat and the tears spill quicker from his eyes.

"Oh, sweetheart! I'm so sor..." Tim doesn't let the older man finish and throws himself into the pair of open arms.

He buries his face in the solid, warm chest as his hands fist the shirt of his father. He doesn't try to stop the tears this time, not anymore, and he doesn't care if someone catches him crying like this.

His father just told him that he loved him.

He never heard his birth parents said that to him. And he isn't sure if anyone has ever said that to him.

The hole deepens in his chest, but somehow, it feels good. It feels like, like...

Happiness?

He isn't sure.

But his heart seems to beat quicker and it does feel more solid.

More real.

Just a bit. But it's something.

So he keeps on sobbing in his father's arms and listening to whatever the man is whispering to him. He can't comprehend the words right now, but they sure sound comforting to his ears.

When his sobbing dies down and reality comes back to him, Tim shifts a bit to avoid the damp spot on his father's shirt.

His tears.

He hasn't cried like that for months. Hell, maybe years.

A warm hand cups his face and the large fingers wipe away the remaining tears. He sniffs to clear his nose and takes a shuddering breath. As he leans back to rest his head on Bruce's shoulder, his eyes accidentally catch sight of a small crouching figure by the doorway.

Cass.

She blinks at him and offers him a tiny smile.

"Hey, Cass." He croaks out with his hoarse voice and waves at her to tell her to come closer.

"Little brother." She points at his chest, the spot right next to his heart. "Loved."

He hears a low chuckle coming from their father.

"Love you too sis." He says sincerely.

Bruce moves a hand to pet Cass's hair and she leans in like a housecat.

"Little brother. Rest." She then kisses his cheek and stands up. "Love you. Much."

"Okay." He replies and Cass leaves, still smiling at him.

"Do you want to sleep here, or somewhere else?" Bruce asks, implying his room. That room is like a hotspot for children with nightmares and breakdowns. But Tim thinks he wants to be alone for tonight.

"I want to sleep here."

"Okay, buddy. If you need anything, I mean literally anything, you can always come find me, got it?"

"Yes. Don't worry. And I'll be here in the morning." He adds, reassuring the man.

Bruce lets him climb on the bed and tucks him in. He then leans down to press a kiss to his forehead and whispers.

"Goodnight Tim. I love you."

Feeling drowsy, Tim just murmurs back whatever on his mind.

"Night, Dad. Love you too."

And he's out like a light.

A noise wakes him up from his sleep. Tim snaps his eyes open and prepares himself. His door cracks open and a figure appears in the dim light coming from the hallway.

"Drake."

_Oh, Damian._

"Damian." He replies coldly. "What are you doing in my room?"

"If my memory serves me right, this room hasn't been yours since you moved out."

Tim rolls his eyes. He certainly doesn't need this kind of conversation in the middle of the night.

"If you are here just to insult me or threaten to kill me, I won't hesitate to kick you out of this room. And I won't hold back this time."

He knows he can take Damian, and he won't just let the kid get away with whatever this time. He's too tired of Damian's shit and too sleep-deprived to listen to the kid.

"Tt. As if you could. I'd win if it comes to a fight between us."

"Damian, I swear to God..."

"Tt." The kid interrupts him. "But I have no wish to fight you. It would displease father and Pennyworth greatly."

"Then what are you doing here?" Tim narrows his eyes.

"Grayson told me about, hmmph, your condition." _Of course, Dick fucking Grayson._ "And, tt, I come to see if you have run off so father and he can come after you."

_Weird excuse. But whatever._

"The last time we met you told me that I'd never be accepted in this family. Now you're checking on me. But like, since you can see that I'm still here, you can leave now."

Damian scowls at him but he quickly drops it and puffs his chest.

"Obviously I had... misspoken." _Wait a minute..._ "And as incompetent and pathetic as you are, you clearly have some value for this family."

"Ohoho, you are apologizing to me!" Tim almost says with glee.

"I am not!"

"Yes, you are! This is almost unbelievable!"

"Quit your chattering Drake, or you will wake everyone up." Damian glares at him again. "Go back to sleep Drake, Father would be displeased if I keep you up for longer."

Tim grins at the younger boy as the said boy slams the door shut and runs off. He woke up expecting the day to be one of the worst in his life and it turns out to be one of the most satisfying days. He chuckles to himself as sleep consumes him once more and falls back into his dreamland.

The second time he wakes up, he is met with a familiar face with blond locks of hair tickling his face.

"Morning Boy Wonder!"

"Steph! What the fuck?!"

"Language Birdboy. And I was waiting for you to wake up."

"How long have you been staring at me?!"

"A while."

"Stephanie!"

The blond girl laughs out loud and attacks him with a hug. He breathes in the strawberry scent of her shampoo and hugs her back, though not as tight.

"You are such a dumbass, ya racoon."

"Racoon?"

"Go find a mirror, dumbass."

"You just told me to watch my language. Steph, you're a freaking hypocrite." She laughs again and he feels butterflies in his stomach. Just a bit. "Dumbass? Really? Why so?"

"Because you're a dumbass." She lets go of him and moves to the doorway. "Wanna get some breakfast, Dumb Wonder?"

Tim has breakfast with his family. Bruce greets him with a hug and a kiss on his hair, whispering to him that he's loved. Dick grins at him from across the table and Jason growls at the grinning man to tell him to stop.

Damian still glares at him but the glare doesn't have it usual heat. And then Cass flips over and points to his heart like she did the night before and hugs him.

He understands what she means by that.

The day passes with his siblings (with an exception of Damian) and his father telling him that he is loved, and wanted. Even Alfred does that, with his own choice of wording.

And they would hug him, kiss him on the cheeks and temple, or on his forehead (Bruce). And Jason would tousle his hair every now and then.

Honestly, it feels a bit overwhelming to him.

And sometimes, he would long for the solitude, the calm and quiet of his bedroom. And his arms would itch, the voices would tell him to do something undesirable.

But then his heart would lead him to the people that love him (he still can't believe the words they say sometimes but he's working on it) and it would give him the courage to talk it out with his father.

And Tim finds it nice to listen to his heart at last.

Maybe he hasn't healed, not yet. But he has taken the small steps towards recovery. And it's gonna be years for him to be whole again from the broken mess he is now. Even if he might fall to pieces once in a while.

But he knows he has his family looking after him.

And he knows he's loved.

And that's all that matters.

Tim has a bright mind, brilliant and too sharp sometimes.

And he also has a restless heart, never really satisfies with his achievements and always questions every little thing in his life.

But then again, what's better than the combination of an extraordinary brain and a compassionate heart? Which are both adored and valued by his loved ones?

He doesn't really have an answer to that, but as he lies in the cuddle pile of his family, he couldn't care less about the answer. He thinks he's contented for now, all warm and cosy, feeling no black hole but instead the beats of his own heart.

**End.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I did well with this one.  
> I literally had to make a new playlist to set the mood to write this one.
> 
> And maybe some of you might notice, I open with Tim (or Tim's to be exact) and end with heart. Just to be a bit more extra.
> 
> Give me some constructive criticism if you think my writing sucks.

**Author's Note:**

> In some stories I've read (can't remember which ones) the authors sometimes made Tim like all mind and brain, and just really, y'know, cold or lack of empathy even.
> 
> I like to think that he not just has a big heart but was really emotional as a child as well. And maybe Jack and Janet tried to make him suppress it, tried to make him think with a cold mind instead of a warm heart. But Tim has never been really able to do that. I like to think that his heart is as active as his mind and that's why he keeps giving himself hard times and criticism. Because his brain and his heart always conflict and try to cancel each other out. A brilliant mind and a compassionate heart, I think it sounds lovely.
> 
> And if you read my other fic, If I Lose Everything In The Fire,... you might remember a small note saying that Tim means heart in Vietnamese. It's kinda stuck on my mind so I always want to try and exploit this little fact.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed this.  
> Leave some feedbacks or kudos if you did, that would be much appreciated.
> 
> Finally, I'm now on Tumblr. You can find me at [@bisexualnerd](https://bisexualnerd.tumblr.com/). It'd be lovely to have anyone dropping into my messages or ask box. Or if you need anyone to talk to, don't be afraid to message me. I'd always be happy to help 😃  
> See ya all later <3


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